


"WHO DREW THIS D*CK ON MY FACE?!?!" A tale of two drunk super-soldiers (as told by Natasha Romanoff)

by FloatingWorldPictures



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cards Against Humanity, Clintasha - Freeform, Fluff, Mild Language, Other, Science Bros, drunk super soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1832989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloatingWorldPictures/pseuds/FloatingWorldPictures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Science Bros find a way to get the Super-Soldiers drunk.  Shenanigans ensue, including a Cards Against Humanity game, inappropriate talking about feelings, and an arm wrestling match between Bucky and Thor.  Also someone passes out and gets a dick drawn on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"WHO DREW THIS D*CK ON MY FACE?!?!" A tale of two drunk super-soldiers (as told by Natasha Romanoff)

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fluffy fic, let's just agree that all of the Avengers, including Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, live at Avengers tower (except for Thor, who lives in Asgard and periodically visits). 
> 
> I guess that means this fic takes place at some point after CA:TWS.
> 
> If you recognize lines from the movies or comics, I am intentionally quoting that source material and do not own those lines, nor any of the characters.
> 
> I am not a Science Bro, and I have no real knowledge of how drunkenness or hangovers work (other than, hydrate!). This is a work of fic-fluff, so please don't look for accuracy in the science portions of the thing.

“Who drew this dick on my face?!?!”  
A Tale of Two Drunk Super-Soldiers  
(as told by Natasha Romanoff)

 

    Really, the whole thing was Barton’s fault, as these things are apt to be.  I love the guy, don’t get me wrong, but I have never met anyone with such a talent for causing inadvertent mayhem.  Look at that, I guess Clint does have a superpower -- Human Disaster.  
    Not that Thor is entirely innocent here.  I know it’s kind of a drag for him, and I feel for the guy, I really do, but he’s a freaking demi-god and none of us can really keep up when it comes to booze -- not even me, and I can drink salty old KGB dudes under the table like it’s nothing.  Stark says it’s because I must have an extra liver where my heart should be.  ( _Do you really want to go there, Stark?_ )  
    But Thor really should have known better than to go out drinking with Barton.    
    Okay, so I promised I would never reveal this to anyone, and _if you say a word I swear I will kill you five times over before you even finish your sentence_ , but Barton is a total lightweight.  Like, I have seen Dr. Foster outdrink Clint, and she’s roughly the size of a toddler.  
    But bless him, he does try.  Which usually results in him passing out just in time for Stark to think it’s a fantastic idea to dip Clint’s hands in bowls of warm water to try and get him to piss himself.  Actually, I think Stark probably considers that a fantastic idea any time of the day or night.  “For science,” he claims.  
    It only worked the one time, though.    
   _(In case you cannot see, I am sliding my finger across my throat in the universal “I will kill you” gesture.  Seriously.  Not a word to anyone.)_  
    Anyway.  Stark was having a little hissy fit because a profoundly hungover Barton had used up all the coffee and was drinking it straight from the carafe, thereby (and I quote), “Contaminating it so no one else can have any unless they want to risk avian flu.”  So Clint tried to convince Tony to put his science mojo to work on curing hangovers.  
    “Sorry,” Tony told him.  “I’m not that kind of doctor.  I’m more of an engineer.  Big things, fly around, go boom?  I understand how you might have missed some of my work, it’s very subtle.”  He leaned in close to Clint and shouted, _“See, this is why you’re not in Ravenclaw, bird-brain.”_  
    “Aw, headache,” Clint groaned as he rubbed his temples.  “You have like eight degrees, man.  Between you and Banner I bet you can work something out.”  
    “How’s this?  Coffee is a diuretic and will just make you more dehydrated and more hungover.  Hand it over and get yourself some Gatorade.  Doctor’s orders,” Tony grinned and snatched the coffee away.  
    “Awww, coffee, no,” protested Clint.  
    Poor guy.  I have been accused of being about as nurturing as a Kree, and that’s mostly true, but I felt so bad for Barton that I brought him some pink Gatorade and a few aspirin, myself.  


    So, just a quick note about Tony Stark.  Don’t let him fool you.  The guy acts like a smug prick, but that’s just how he shows love.  The more he teases you, the more he loves you.  I know this because he never _ever_ makes fun of me, but he seems to have an unlimited supply of obnoxious and sarcastic nicknames for Banner.  See what I mean?  
    So anyway, a few days later Tony emerges from his lab looking like the cat who ate the canary.  He sidles up to Banner, bats his eyelashes, and sweetly says, “A word in the lab, Super Smash Brother?”  
    Bruce smiles in his shy, endearing way.  I think it still kind of blows his mind that he has friends like us, who don’t mind a bit that sometimes he turns into a gigantic green monster and demolishes everything.  I mean, we mind, but broken bones mend.  You just can’t hold it against him, Banner is a sweetheart.  
    “What’s up?” he asks Tony.  
    Stark glances around warily.  “Uh, not in front of the kiddies,” he says.  “Come to the lab.  I need a second opinion on something.”  
     _Not in front of the kiddies?_   It’s just me, Cap, and Sam.  What could Stark possibly be up to that he needs input from Banner but can’t talk about it in front of us?    
    I catch Steve’s eye and he nods.    
     _You think you’re keeping secrets when you live with a super-spy?  Nice try, Stark._   I creep unnoticed through the tower, silently pop open a vent, and hoist myself into the duct.  He thinks this wing is secure, but I hacked it months ago.  J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn’t even notice as I wriggle my way to a spot where I can hear everything that goes on in Tony’s lab.  
    “That wouldn’t work,” Banner was saying.  “If you inhibit liver function, it would just release more un-metabolized alcohol into the body.  There’s no point in trying to give the liver a rest.  You’d just get more messed up a lot quicker and then you’d have the kind of hangover that would leave you begging for death.  That’s a terrible idea.”  
    “Right, I thought you would say that, so then I thought maybe we could just fiddle directly with the neurotransmitters, so you wouldn’t have to drink as much to get the nifty effects.  Liver won’t have to work as hard processing volume.  One drink can feel like four but you don’t have to actually drink four.  As far as the liver is concerned, you only had one.  Wake up the next day as fresh as a daisy,” Tony explains proudly.  
    “So basically you’re proposing to make him _more_ of a lightweight?”  
    “A lightweight who can last the night because his body isn’t overtaxed trying to process the alcohol, so shouldn’t it eliminate the passed-out-wasted phase?  I don’t know, I taught myself cellular biology in a day, okay?  If you have a better idea, I’m listening.”  
    What the hell are these two up to?  Lightweight?  
     _Barton._   Oh, Tony.  Such a pushover.  He’s trying to come up with something for Barton’s hangovers.  That’s sweet.  
    Thank god there is at least one adult in that lab right now.  Bruce tries to explain to Tony why messing with someone’s neurotransmitters for the purposes of feeling drunker is probably a pretty bad idea.  And, also?  Just pop an Oxycontin or something, Stark.  Let’s not reinvent the wheel.  
    “I apologize for the disturbance, but Agent Romanoff is listening in an air duct,” J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupts.  
     _Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck._   I guess J.A.R.V.I.S. finally patched up my hack.  
    Stark looks around.  “That isn’t very nice, Agent Romanoff.”  
    “Yeah, well since when am I nice?  And since when are you keeping secrets in here?” I yell as I kick out the vent.  I peer into the lab and grin.  “What’s up, Science Bros?”  
    “Hey Natasha,” Bruce says brightly, returning my smile like it’s perfectly normal for me to eavesdrop in air ducts.  Well, I guess it kind of is...  
    “No secrets in here,” Tony insists.  “ _Surprises._ ”  
    “Oh?” I say with exaggerated interest, dropping into the lab.  
    Stark slings his arm around Banner’s shoulders and the two of them tilt their heads together and grin.  It can be kind of sickening to watch them in the lab together.  They’re adorable.  But also, trouble.  And they do not seem to understand that it is my literal job to charm, cajole, or otherwise crack secrets out of people with way better poker faces than these two.  
    “Surprise my sweet ass,” I tell them.  “I know what’s going on in here.  Don’t encourage Barton.  Consequences are the only thing keeping him from getting into more trouble than he already does.”  
    “Don’t worry,” Banner assures me, all serious business now.  “If you could really cure a hangover someone would have done it ages ago.”  He turns to Tony, “Like I was saying, it’s a nice idea in theory, but it won’t work.  Sorry, brother.”  
    Stark looks at me and sighs.  “Well.  There you go.”  
    I am not buying it for a second, but I guess their little experiment is in a relatively harmless phase for now.  Plus, I don’t have all day to babysit them so I let it go, vowing to keep a close watch on things.  

    Owing to a particularly grueling mission, I totally forget about the Science Bros and their diabolical hangover experiments.  Me, Cap, Barnes, and Barton are all banged up and exhausted when we get back to the tower, having spent the last few days up to our eyeballs in freaking Doombots.  Can someone please just assassinate Victor von Doom already?    That asshole is building a gigantic Latverian castle on my last nerve.  
    Two things should have tipped me off to the trouble brewing in the tower.  The first was that Pepper was not around.  She was in Orlando giving the keynote speech at some women in tech conference, because she is amazing.  Seriously, that woman is amazing.  And she’s the only one who can really keep Stark on his best behavior, so I usually have my guard up for some manner of shenanigans when she’s away.    
    For example, the last time Pepper was gone, Tony and Thor got hammered ( _pun intended!_ ) and Tony convinced Thor to zap his suit with lightening so the two of them could fly around the world to see who was fastest -- Tony with the lightening-charged suit or Thor with the power of Mjølnir.  I don’t remember who won, mostly because I was trying to convince the North Koreans that the jaunt of the fucking idiot Lightening Twins through restricted airspace should not be construed as a hostile overture.  
    And that brings us to the second thing that should have tipped me off to the trouble brewing.  Thor had been in town visiting Dr. Foster, but she went with Pepper to the conference, so he came by the tower for a visit before going home to Asgard.    
    Did I mention that I think Thor is really an amazing guy?  Because I do.  Let me just preface this by saying that I know he is incredibly kind and brave.  I trust him with just about anything, even if his brother is the biggest psycho in the nine realms.  But Thor can be a terrible influence on the guys.  Unintentionally of course, but there is so much macho posturing that goes on when he’s around.  I swear, it is only a matter of time before I walk in on them all measuring their dicks or something.  And, I mean, Thor’s an indestructible demi-god and a gratuitously handsome Disney prince all rolled into one delightful ray of sunshine, so I get it.  He can be hard on the fragile male ego.  But Thor does not seem to get it.  He’s like, “Fuck yeah, let’s do these crazy feats of strength and endurance in competition that will smash shit up or possibly cause an international incident, this will be a great bonding experience!”  Only, you know, imagine him saying it in his formal Asgardian way.  (Actually, it’s kind of funny to notice how certain phrases he picks up from around here make their way into his speech patterns.  I haven’t heard him say “Fuck yeah!” just yet, but I wonder if he goes around Asgard telling people they’re cool.  He really likes that one.)  
    Anyway.  Trouble was brewing.  
    At least everyone was in agreement about a night in.  We’re too recognizable, especially when we hang out together, so there is really no point in going out.  Although, once in a while certain _unnamed individuals_ like to showboat.  You know who I mean.  Tonight, however, he seemed positively giddy to have us all stay home.  Plus, we really only get to play Cards Against Humanity when Pepper is gone.  Half the fun of playing is trying to explain all the references to Thor, Cap, and Barnes, and I maintain that it’s good cultural immersion for them.  But Pepper says it depresses her and she would rather believe the fiction that we are all decent people, so she’d rather not know which of us has a particular talent for depraved dick jokes.    
    Spoiler alert: it’s Steve Rogers.  And that’s when he’s stone cold sober.  Sam thinks he’s hilarious, of course, and totally eggs Cap on but that’s what happens when you get two Army guys in a room together, so I don’t know why you would be surprised.  Those two never run out of dick jokes and thinly veiled homoeroticism.  God bless America.  
    So I’m dealing out the cards and Stark comes to the table with a bottle of bourbon that probably cost -- you know what, I don’t even want to know.  And then he starts handing out glasses to everyone -- Cap and Barnes included.    
    “Come on,” Cap says, “you don’t want to waste the good stuff on me and Bucky.”  
    I swear, if Tony Stark had a tail it would be wagging right now.  
    “Indulge us in a little experiment, gents?” he asks.  “It’s for science.”  
    “I think I’ve had enough science for one lifetime, Tony,” Bucky tells him.    
    “No, don’t think of it as science,” Banner pipes up, shooting Stark a _shut the hell up_ look.  “Think of it as...a relaxation aid.”  
    Now Cap looks interested.  I guess Bruce Banner would be a leading authority on relaxation aids.  Not that any ever work for him.    
    Steve and Bucky exchange one of those glances that I know contains, like, an entire conversation that the rest of us can’t understand.  They’re like an old married couple sometimes.  A lot of the time.  Okay, pretty much all the time.  Anyway, they seem to come to a consensus, and Cap goes, “What did you have in mind, exactly?  And what does it have to do with bourbon?”  
    At this, Stark takes from his pocket a glass phial containing a small amount of clear liquid.  “This, my friends, is a little substance that will, if our calculations are correct, allow you two serum-ed up super-soldiers to enjoy this bourbon to the fullest extent.”  
    Now, Barnes looks interested, too.  “You mean, you figured out a way to get us drunk?”  
    “I think we have, yes.  You game?”  
    Cap smiles that stupid-cute smile of his, that _oh-gosh-golly-jeepers_ smile that _no one is buying Cap, we have all heard your dick jokes._  
    “Does it have to be bourbon?” Cap asks.  “I’m sure it’s a great bottle, but I’d rather just have a beer.”  
    Banner practically tips his chair backwards standing up.  “It doesn’t have to be bourbon.  The fridge is stocked, let’s see what we can find you, Steve.”  
    Stark looks like he’s about to protest but Banner silences him with a wave of his hand as he and Cap go in search of acceptable beer.  So Stark uncorks the bottle of bourbon and waves it in Barnes’s direction.  “What about you, Lefty?”  
    There is a sort of unwritten rule in the tower that you just don’t tease Bucky about the arm.  He doesn’t especially appreciate having such a conspicuous souvenir from H.Y.D.R.A., for one thing.  And I have tried explaining to Stark that his usual method of bestowing affection -- i.e. acting like an ass -- gets kind of lost in translation with Barnes because the guy really does harbor an overwhelming amount of guilt for the accident that killed Howard and Maria Stark.  He tends to take Tony’s teasing to heart.  So when Barnes throws Stark his scary-deadpan-murder stare, I’m ready to intervene.  
    But he just holds out his glass.  “I’ll take the bourbon.”  
    “Excellent choice,” says Stark, giving him a generous pour.  
    Once we’re all set with drinks and cards, Stark and Banner measure out a bit of the clear liquid into two shot glasses and push them across the table.  Cap and Barnes each take one, looking a little apprehensive.    
    “Come on, drink up, _lechayim!_   To life!” Stark urges them.  
    They clink glasses and shoot the clear liquid in one gulp.  
    Barnes furls his eyebrows and wrinkles his nose.  I try not to laugh, because he looks _positively outraged_ , but I can’t help it.  “Ugh, that was disgusting,” he complains, treating me to the scary-deadpan-murder stare.  ( _Side note: What does it say about me that I find that stare kind of disturbingly hot?  I’ll tell you what it says.  I have issues._ )  
    “A glassful of bourbon helps the medicine go down,” I say, raising a glass.  We all toast the super-soldiers’ first foray into super-drunkenness.    
    “So how did you two develop this stuff, anyway?” asks Sam.  He isn’t being conversational.  He’s very protective of Cap.    
    Stark explains that it started as an experiment to cure hangovers but when that wasn’t working out, they realized what they actually had made was a way to let the super-soldiers feel the effects of drunkenness despite their crazy high metabolism.    
    Barton is visibly disappointed.  He pushes his glass of bourbon over to me and gets himself a beer and a preemptive bottle of Gatorade.  Poor guy.

 

    We’re a few rounds in, both with the game and the drinks.  Me and Thor are still pretty mellow.  Barton and Banner are pacing themselves (Bruce, I think, gets nervous about drinking too much and losing control.  Could you imagine a drunk Hulk?).  Sam and Tony are starting to get kind of giddy.  And we are all scrutinizing Barnes and Cap to see if the Science Bros really did manage to get them drunk.  
    Steve is only drinking beer, so I think he’s still pretty mellow, too.  But his cheeks are a little red and he laughs a little louder and more freely than normal, even at Stark’s jokes.  Actually, it’s more like giggling.  I’m just going to say it, Captain America is giggling like a little girl.  So something has to be working on him.  
    It’s definitely working on Barnes.  He is all cockiness and swagger, charming everybody with this knowing, crooked smile that I didn’t realize he had in him.  I expected Barnes to be kind of a sad, angry drunk but he seems to be shaping up as the fun and happy variety, which is nice to see.  He’s usually so reserved, and somehow I get the feeling that this is more the real Bucky -- the old Bucky.  His expressive face lights up with excitement or falls in dramatic astonishment when he’s _positive_ his card will win, but doesn’t.  
    Banner is winning, actually.  That guy will sneak up on you in a Cards Against Humanity game.  His picks are always, like, somehow very poetic and artful even when they’re obscene.  He seems to have all of us pegged well enough to always pick the exact card that will speak to us when it’s our turn as Card Czar.  I guess that’s one perk of being the quiet and unassuming one in a group -- you get a lot of opportunities to study the rest.  
The next black card is flipped and it is my absolute favorite, mostly because we all manage to find a way to torture Cap with it.  I don’t know how we got so lucky, but Cap also happens to be the Card Czar for this round.  
THE SMITHSONIAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY HAS JUST OPENED AN INTERACTIVE EXHIBIT ON __________.  
    Oh, god, I have so many good cards for this one that will make Cap whine, “Haha, Natasha, very funny.”  Do I go with DOING THE RIGHT THING, which is Cap all over, or something more taunting?    
    One by one, Cap goes around and flips over our cards.  
    “Okay, Nat, what have you got?”  Cap says.  I flip my card.  
NAT: THE HOMOSEXUAL AGENDA  
    “Haha, Natasha, very funny,” he says.  I consider that response a win regardless of outcome.  
    Thor is up next.  He’s been pretty quiet tonight because Dr. Foster set him up with a smartphone before she left.  She and Stark have been working on a modification that will allow Thor to use it in Asgard, so he and Jane can communicate more easily.  He’s into it in the same way we might be into getting a typewriter or fancy stationary -- charming in a vintage kind of way.  Tech on Asgard is so far ahead of what we have here, we tend to forget that our tech might as well be sticks and stones for all Thor knows how he’s supposed to use it for its intended purpose.  But he seems to have gotten the hang of using his phone because he’s been texting with Dr. Foster all night.  Those two are disgustingly cute.  
    Thor’s eyes are currently twinkling with mischief.  He must either have a really good card, or he and Dr. Foster are hardcore sexting right now.  
THOR: KAMIKAZE PILOTS  
    We all burst out laughing, even Steve.    
    “Well I can’t argue with that,” Cap says through his giggles.  He flips Banner’s pick.  
BRUCE: EXTREMELY TIGHT PANTS  
    Damn it, that guy is _good_.  We’ve all been picking cards that tease Cap, but Bruce goes right for Barnes, whose civvie wardrobe consists mainly of skinny jeans.  That dude loves wearing tight-ass pants.  And, I mean, he’s got some banging thighs so I don’t exactly mind, but Cap is _constantly_ giving him shit for it.   _Of course_ Steve is going to pick that one.  He throws his arm around Barnes’s neck.  “It should have been,” he says.  “The whole exhibit should have been about _your ass_.”  
    Aw, is Cap a lovey drunk?  That would be fun.  He and Barnes sort of bump foreheads -- I think they’re pretty buzzed -- and Barnes goes, “Nah, I’m no Captain America.  That suit really accentuates the goods.”  
    “Okay, either make out with each other or get to the rest of the cards,” Stark interrupts, jotting something in a little notebook.  I guess it isn’t science if you don’t write it down.    
TONY: WORLD PEACE  
    “I’m playing to my audience,” he explains.  
    Cap actually smiles at him, a genuine smile, not his _I’m smiling so I don’t throttle you_ smile he reserves especially for Tony Stark.  “Well played.”  
    Barnes is next.  “Wait, I want to change mine.”  
    “You can’t change it,” Cap argues.  “It’s against the rules.”    
    “Since when do you care about rules?” Barnes shoots back, clutching the card to his chest.  Cap wrestles the card away from him and flips it.  
BUCKY: GHOSTS  
     _Oh._   Geez, Barnes, just rip our hearts out why don’t you?  No one says a word.  Cap and Bucky have one of their silent eyeball conversations and I’m worried that they’re just tipsy enough for this to push them into sad-drunk territory.    
    Fortunately, Barton breaks the tension by accidentally knocking his beer over.  It spills across the table, and we all scramble to move our cards and throw napkins at the puddle.  I guess sometimes being a Human Disaster comes in handy?  Superpower...  
    We settle back down, and Cap magnanimously declares Stark the winner.  To Tony’s credit, he only gloats a tiny bit as he pours another round of drinks.  Sam is the next Card Czar.  
WHAT’S A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND?  
    Oh, this ought to be good.  At least, my card is pretty spectacular.    
    “What have you got for me, Romanoff?” Sam says as he takes my card.  
NAT: ESTABLISHING DOMINANCE  
    Barnes lets out a low whistle.  “I bet that always works for you,” he says to me, not a little lewdly.  OMG he is totally a flirty, inappropriate drunk!  He smiles this total sex-god smile and I swear he is picturing me naked right now.  _No, you can NOT lust after Barnes.  Stop it right now!_  
CLINT: SEAN CONNERY  
    “Man, didn’t that guy beat his wife?” Sam objects.  
    “Oh, yeah,” Clint says, frowning.  He never wins.  “I’m, uh, being ironic!”  
THOR: FINGERING  
    He looks so goddamn proud of himself for that card.  Sometimes the literal cards are the best hands to play, especially when it’s Thor because he’s always so inadvertently deadpan.  Plus, I assume fingering is an Asgardian girl’s best friend as much as any other girl’s.  
    “That one will be hard to beat,” Sam laughs.  
BUCKY: AMPUTEES  
    I am completely stunned that he’s making fun of himself, because it’s usually not a joking matter to him _at all._   But Barnes clearly thinks he’s being hilarious, judging by the expression on his face, so I decide to play along.  Sometimes, it is really fun to pretend you don’t understand the innuendo and make them painstakingly explain it.  So I say innocently, “I don’t get it.”  
    “You know...” he insists, flexing the arm a little.  It makes a faint mechanical whirring noise as it re-calibrates.  “Okay, maybe just one amputee in particular.”  
    “Like, which one?”  
    He pats his lap.  “Why don’t you sit right here and I’ll show you?”  
    Fucking flirty, inappropriate drunk.  I’m starting to feel a little uninhibited, myself, and I crack a wry smile.  _Nopenopenopenope.  Okay, maybe just a little.  NATASHA ALIANOVA ROMANOFF, NO!_   I decide instead to flip him off, which Barnes seems to get a big kick out of because he just grins even more.  And honestly, I can’t really be that mad at him because he seems like he’s having just the grandest time, and it’s adorable.  I haven’t ever seen him this open and quick to laugh and joke, especially about _that_.     
    And now it’s my turn as Card Czar.  “Okay, impress me, boys!”  
WHY DO I HURT ALL OVER?  
    Oh, well that’s timely.  Let us count the ways!    
    Barnes leans over to Cap and shows him a couple cards.  They whisper for a few moments and then he turns to Stark on his other side.  He must have some cards he doesn’t understand.  Tony laughs and pulls two cards from his hand.  I shudder to think what lewd-drunk Bucky will come up with under Stark’s influence.  
    “Hit me, Sam,” I say, turning to my right.  
SAM: WET DREAMS  
    Steve actually snort-laughs.  “Oh, man!  That is not right.  What kind of wet dreams are you having that make you hurt all over?  You should see a doctor about that.”  
    Sam starts to answer, and I quickly interrupt.  “No.  We do not need to hear about your wet dreams.  I’m guessing they involve wrestling with Steve while he wears a G-string version of his Cap suit, and that’s a mental picture I can live without.”  
    “Damn, Nat, how did you know?” Sam jokes.  
    Barnes shoots out his metal arm and reaches for Sam.  “Hey!” he shouts.  Everybody jumps, suddenly very tense.  Is the stuff Stark and Banner gave them going to make Barnes turn violent?  But Barnes can’t keep a straight face, try as he might.  “I saw him first.  Steve is _my_ dream-boat,” he manages to sputter before bursting into laughter.  
    For a minute there, Sam looked genuinely terrified that Barnes was going to snap on him, but Steve puts an arm around each of them.  “You’re both my special little guys,” he says.  
     _Click._   Thor snaps a picture of them with his phone.  Barton watches him fiddle with it and then leans in to me.  He looks alarmed.  “He’s uploading that to Instagram!”  
    Thor has an Instagram?  Darcy must have gotten to him.  I bet she got him on Twitter, too.  I bet his handle is “Prince of Ass-gard,” or something.  “God of Pop Tarts,” maybe?  
    The Captain America sandwich is getting a little out of hand as Sam and Bucky argue over who has more of a claim on Steve.  
    “Okay, okay, you three can play grab-ass later.  ‘Why do I hurt all over?’  Your move, Cap,” I say.  
STEVE: PUBERTY  
    “Yeah, you more than most, if I remember,” Bucky teases, tossing his card on the table with a flourish.  
BUCKY: EMOTIONS  
    “Awww, Barnes,” Clint protests.  “You’re bumming us out, man!”    
    “What can I say, I’m sensitive,” Bucky shoots back with a dazzling smile.  Girls must have loved him back in the day if this is what he was like.  Not the pervert part -- I mean, maybe the pervert part, I don’t know what girls liked in the 1940s -- but I can’t deny that the boy’s got charm.  It’s cute.  
TONY: ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT SHRIMP FOR $4.99  
    “That’s gross, dude,” Sam tells him, and Stark looks very proud.  
BRUCE: THE CHINESE GYMNASTICS TEAM  
    I laugh.  “Hey, that was one time!  How was I supposed to know they were assassins?  They’re like three feet tall!”  Those tiny Chinese teenagers fucked me up a few years back.  I made it out okay but I have a nasty scar on my back from it.    
THOR: GOBLINS  
    “They are vile little creatures,” he explains.  
    “I’ll take your word for it,” I say.  
CLINT: POOR LIFE CHOICES  
    “And we have our winner,” I say immediately.  
    Barton beams.  He never wins.  But poor life choices is usually the exact reason why he hurts all over, so I have to give it to him.  
    And now he’s the Card Czar.  
WHY AM I STICKY?  
    I get us all another round of drinks.  I have a feeling I’m going to need it for this hand.  
    “So, how are you guys feeling?” Banner asks the super-soldiers.  
    “Swell,” says Cap, popping open his fifth or sixth beer.    
    Barnes has also switched to beer.  “No one says ‘swell’ any more, Stevie,” he scolds.  His words are starting to kind of slur together.  Also, _Stevie?_  
THOR: THE MIRACLE OF CHILDBIRTH  
    Thor’s cards are always so delightfully literal.  
BRUCE: HOT CHEESE  
    Cap starts giggling so hard that he actually starts choking, and Barnes thumps him on the back a few times with the arm until Cap stops coughing and takes deep, gulping breaths.  Bucky pretty much looks like he’s ready to perform a double lung transplant using his own lungs as donations then and there, and I remember that in the old days Steve had really debilitating asthma and that this is probably a reflexive response for Bucky.  But Cap’s okay.  He pants as he finally draws a clear breath and says, “Do you fondue?”    
    Then he cracks up again.  We all just sort of stare at him like he’s a crazy person.  
    “Is that not a thing?” he asks, dumbfounded.  “I thought it was a thing...”  
    “Uh, it’s not a thing I’m familiar with but I really wish you were the Card Czar right now,” Banner says.  “I was just referring to the other night when Clint spilled a plate of nachos down his front, but is there some other meaning?  I don’t always know what the kids are saying these days.”  
    Cap sighs.  “No, I guess not.  At least, not these days.  Never mind.”  
    “Well I’m pretty sure my card is fairly clear in its message,” says Stark.  
TONY: GIVING BIRTH TO THE ANTICHRIST  
    “I believe I have one-upped you, Prince Shinylocks,” he crows.    
    Thor laughs.  “Yes I imagine that would be a good deal stickier.”  
BUCKY: MY HIGH-TECH COLLECTION OF SEX TOYS  
    He raises his eyebrows, wriggling the fingers on his metal arm.  Again with the arm jokes.  It kind of makes you wonder what he does with it in his alone time.  
    Barton covers his eyes.  “No need to elaborate, I believe you, dude.”  
STEVE: DOIN’ IT IN THE BUTT  
    He and Sam crack up.  I’m telling you...Army dudes.  Like five year olds, but with guns.  
    “Yeah, laugh it up you guys.  It’s doing wonders for those rumors about you,” I say.  
    “No but Nat, Nat, Nat look, look at us, Nat, Nat,” Sam shouts over the laughter.  “Don’t we make a cute couple?”  They put their heads together and smile.  
    “Adorable,” I affirm, taking Sam’s card and passing it to Barton.  
SAM: ME TIME  
    These have all been pretty funny, but I am fairly sure Barton will pick mine.  
NAT: LICKING THINGS TO CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN  
    I wrap my arms around Clint’s neck and gently lick his earlobe.  
    “Nat wins,” he sighs.

    Cards Against Humanity is eventually abandoned so Thor and Barnes can arm-wrestle over a tied hand.  I don’t even remember what the cards were.  I think that Stark, who was Card Czar that round, had been meaning to goad them into it for a while now.  The other day he’d been interrogating Barnes about the arm -- questions about torque and pounds of pressure and malfunction fail-safes and whatnot.  We all just assumed it was because Stark is responsible for maintenance on the arm now, but I’d bet my bullets he was planning this all along.    
    “Sorry, I can’t decide,” Tony declares when they flip their cards.  “Southpaw, Goldilocks, you’re going to have to arm wrestle it out.  All in favor?”  He raises his hand and looks around at us.    
    Clint looks contemplative and nods to himself, slowly raising his hand.  Which only proves my general thesis about Clint, that nothing good ever comes from him looking contemplative.  I grab his arm and pull it back down.  Because nothing good ever comes from ridiculous displays of machismo featuring Thor, actual demi-god, either.  
    Speaking of, he’s already pushing back from the table.  “I accept your challenge!” he says, clearly very excited about it.  Thor loves this sort of thing.  
    Barnes rubs his stubble and looks at Cap.  His eyebrows perform some gymnastic routine that Steve can apparently translate into speech.  “Bucky accepts, too,” Cap says with a bit of a wicked grin.  
    I think Cap may have mistranslated, because if you ask me, Barnes is looking a little worried.  I would be, too.  We’ve all seen Thor in action.  We all remember that one time he head-butted Stark in the Iron Man suit and _dented the suit._   Well, Barnes doesn’t remember since he wasn’t there, but it’s one of Cap’s favorite stories so I’m sure he’s heard about it ten thousand times.  
    Barton is helping Stark and Thor clear a space for the match and Barnes catches me staring at him.  “You got something I can use to tie back my hair?” he asks me.    
    Cap has been trying to get him to cut his hair since we found him, but Barnes seems to like it.  He buys really fancy shampoo at the salon in Saks Fifth Avenue and he refuses to blow dry it because he doesn’t want split ends.  And I’ll admit, the hair is pretty glorious.  It’s all shiny and wavy and... _Wow, okay, I need to stop now._  
    I pull a hair tie off my wrist and shoot it to Barnes, who puts his hair up in a messy man-bun.  I try not to think about how sexy his hair looks pulled back like that.  
    Banner is elected referee and we crowd around as Barnes and Thor take their positions.  Thor has graciously agreed to use his non-dominant left hand so Barnes can use the metal arm, but somehow I don’t think that it’s going to make much of a difference.    
    Banner counts them down and as soon as the match starts, I can hear the arm grinding and whirring as it pushes against Thor’s strength.  It can’t seem to recalibrate fast enough to gain much ground, and Barnes lets out this groan that is _not_ helping my whole not-thinking-about-how-sexy-he-suddenly-is thing.    
    Thor is grinning like he’s not even trying, like Bucky is just giving him a manicure or something.  But I think Thor feels bad because he lets Barnes force their fists upright again before slamming them down to the table.  Either that or he wanted more momentum for dramatic effect, because the table promptly splinters and falls to pieces.    
    “The sign of a good match and a worthy opponent!” Thor shouts, clapping a dejected-looking Barnes on the back.  I don’t think Barnes likes being shown up in front of Cap.  
    “Y’all are in so much trouble when Pepper gets back!” Sam says.  “That was a Frank Lloyd Wright table!”  
    Stark looks at him quizzically.  
    “What?” Sam says, defensively.  “We watch Antiques Roadshow together.”  
    Stark just shrugs.  “Oh, well.  That table was ugly, anyway.”  

    It’s really late and the raucous has kind of died down.  Stark and Banner retreated to discuss, I don’t know, science-y things, I guess.  They both seem pretty pleased with their little experiment tonight.  I guess they went to analyze their findings or something.  Either that, or Stark is having Banner enlist him in the witness protection program, because Pepper is going to be _pissed_ when she sees what happened to her table.  Thor will have Heimdall beam him back to Asgard tonight, so he’ll be long gone by the time she gets back, and she treats Barnes roughly the way Mrs. Weasley treated Harry Potter, so Stark is catching _all_ the blame for that one.  
    Sam, Cap, and Barton all settled in with a video game, which was very loud for a while, until Cap and Barton fell asleep in front of the TV.  So Sam decided to call it a night, and left to crash in his bed like a responsible adult.  Well, that makes one of us...    
    That just left me and Barnes and the dregs of a bourbon bottle.  He offers it to me and when I shake my head, tips his head back and drains the last of it.    
    “I’m impressed,” I whisper.  “You can really hold your liquor.”  
    He looks pleased.  “Yeah, I’m good.  Stevie, on the other hand?  He was always a lightweight.  Good to know some things haven’t changed,” he says, looking wistfully over at a sleeping Cap.  
    “You really love him, don’t you?” I say, more to myself than to him.  
    “Yeah...” Barnes says, trailing off like he wants to say more but isn’t sure how to put it.  I curl up around a couch cushion while he works it out.  “You know...you know how like...  Okay.  You ever been in a situation where, I mean you’re in pain and you’re terrified and you know you’re going down but, all that’s not so bad as just knowing that no one is coming for you?  Even if it’s totally impossible to actually _be rescued_ , just the reality that no one will even try, that you are alone until it kills you, just abandoned...you ever feel like that?”  
    I think about it for a moment.  Have I ever felt like that?  I’m not sure that I have.  I have more or less always had an extraction plan.  And I’m not sure I’ve ever been cornered that badly.    
    Barnes doesn’t wait for me to answer.  “I have been in that situation,” he continues.  “I was there during the war, in the H.Y.D.R.A. facility.  And I was there every conscious minute I was...”  He doesn’t finish his sentence.    
    “The Winter Soldier?” I finally say.  I regret it instantly.  He hates it when we refer to it.  But he doesn’t seem upset.  Just relieved that I seem to know what he’s getting at.  He keeps talking.  
    “Yeah.  No one was coming for me.  But then, Steve was there.  And it was enough for me that he was there.  If he didn’t rescue me, it would have been okay.  But he did.  He rescued me.  Twice.”  
    “He loves you,” I say.  
    “I know he does.  But it’s not that.  He would have done that for _anybody_.  Because he is such a good man.”  
    “You’re a good man,” I remind him.  “You’re an Avenger.  You save people all the time.”  
    But Barnes is shaking his head.  “No.  I don’t do this to save people.  Just him.  I just do it to keep an eye on Steve.  I wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.”  
    I nod.  I understand what he’s saying.  “We all have our reasons,” I tell him.  “But at the end of the day, we’re all here.”  
    He nods back.  Then he laughs.  “Fuck, this is getting really intense.  Look at us, a couple of sad-sack drunks.”  
    He’s right.  We need to change the subject.  “Truth or dare?” I ask him.  
    He gives me that incredibly charming smile I just discovered tonight.  “Isn’t it your turn?” he asks.  
    “Fair enough.  Dare.”  
    “I dare you,” he begins, leaning close to me, “To tell me the truth if I ask you a question.”  
    “Damn!” I say.  “Okay, that was good.  Ask.”  
    “What’s your policy on, uh, a little friendly wrestling between colleagues?  Private training session, you know?”  
    My eyes dart to Barton.  He’s passed out on the floor.  I think he’s actually drooling.  _You human disaster_.  I turn my attention back to Barnes.  
    “In general, or did you have someone specific in mind?” I ask.  
    “Would that change your answer?”  
    “Yeah, it would,” I tell him.  “My policy is, one at a time.  And I’m pretty happy with the one I’ve got now.”  And I’m not even surprised at myself when I realize how much I mean that.  Barnes is hot, no question about that, but I’m happy with Clint.  We’re right for each other.    
    Barnes gets flustered.  “Sorry, sorry, Nat.  I didn’t mean...  I’m sorry.  I wasn’t sure.  But, yeah, of course, you and Barton.”  
    Poor drunk guy.  “Don’t worry about it,” I assure him.  “It’s fine.  I’d be an idiot if I couldn’t appreciate how sexy and wonderful you guys all are -- even Stark.  I’ll kill you if you tell him I said that, by the way.  But, you know what you were saying about Cap?  I can’t imagine not being with Barton.”  
    “He’s a lucky guy,” Barnes says wistfully.  
    This is getting depressing.  I am not drunk enough to talk about feelings with Bucky fucking Barnes.  Pretty soon we’ll be braiding each other’s hair and crying.  Fuck that.  
    “Okay,” I say to him.  “Your turn.  Dare or dare?”  
    “What happened to truth?” he asks.  
    “Fuck that.”  
    He tosses aside the empty bourbon bottle and rubs his hands together conspiratorially.  
    “How soundly do you think Cap is sleeping?” I ask.  
    We look at Rogers, sprawled in a chair, still gripping the video game controller.  He’s faintly snoring.    
    “Oh, he’s out for the night,” Barnes assures me.  “What did you have in mind?”  
  
    The next morning, I am in the kitchen drinking coffee.  I’m not hungover, exactly, but it will be a good few hours before I’m willing to interact with anyone without seriously considering murder.    
    Sam comes in and goes straight for the fridge.  That smug asshole, he looks like he just came in from a run.  He swigs orange juice from the carton and nods to me.  “Hey, Nat, have you seen Rogers this morning?”  
    “Um...why?  Have you?”  
    Sam laughs.  “Yeah, I just passed him.  Has he, uh, _seen himself_ this morning?”  
    It takes every bit of my training to keep a straight face as, from somewhere in the tower, I hear Cap bellow, “WHO DREW THIS DICK ON MY FACE?!?!”  


Conclusion

  
Bruce Banner considered the experiment a success, and agreed to manufacture the drunk-serum in limited quantities, to be dispensed at special occasions under controlled circumstances, as defined by Steve Rogers as Sharpie-secure zones.  
  
  
Tony Stark continues to work on a cure for hangovers and has considered adding a pharmaceutical research team to Stark Industries.  He has many sarcastic and obnoxious nicknames for Natasha Romanoff, but does not use them in her hearing.  Pepper Potts returned from her conference and made him sleep on the couch for a week, until he was able to have her antique table restored.  
  
Clint Barton, Human Disaster, burned his tongue drinking coffee out of the carafe.  Everything continues to be his fault.  
  
Thor Odinson accumulated hundreds of thousands of followers on Instagram, where he regularly posts #nofilter pictures of Asgard and the various realms he visits.  His handle is, in fact, @PrinceOfAss-gard.  
  
Sam Wilson never misses his six a.m. run, no matter how much he drinks with the team the night before.  He tries not to be too smug about it.  He also never misses his standing Antiques Roadshow date with Pepper Potts.  He is often intensely smug about it, especially in the company of Tony Stark.  
  
Steve Rogers did not leave Avengers tower for three days because someone drew a dick on his face with a Sharpie that would not wash off.  He believes one James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes is responsible.  Tony Stark and Bruce Banner considered this side effect of the serum a sign of a successful experiment.  
  
James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes maintains his innocence in the matter of vandalizing Captain America’s face.  If pressed, he claims the arm at times has a mind of its own and may be independently responsible.  He has been markedly more at-ease since his drunken heart-to-heart with Agent Romanoff and his continued charm in her general direction has caused his bedroom door to become riddled with wayward arrows.    
  
Natasha Romanoff remains steadfastly unaffected by the charm of Bucky Barnes, although the two have become good friends.  She regularly pilfers Bruce Banner’s drunk-serum supply so she and Barnes can enjoy Tony Stark’s expensive liquor on the rooftop of Avengers tower.  She has nicknamed him “Captain Rum,” which is a story for another time.  
   

 


End file.
